


Birds of a Feather

by VulpusTumultum



Series: Birds of a Feather [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anxiety, Canon-Typical Violence, Denial of Feelings, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mutilation, Other, Suicidal Thoughts, better than they think they are, keeping secrets, parted lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 15:48:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4065631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VulpusTumultum/pseuds/VulpusTumultum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jehrin always attracted the best or worst luck, a lightning rod for disruptive and strange events or strong feelings. An escapee from the Circle, he'd remained a free mage through that luck, as well as working very hard to keep what he was, and all he could do as secret as possible. </p><p>Mostly due to the luck, really- like by chance meeting an elven assassin who proved an almost perfect partner, and wandering with him for a year or so in that partnership. But it was always just... sometimes <i>very</i> friendly alliance- not love.  Whether in the Circle or in the Crows, too much attachment is a weakness, and that's an impossible lesson to forget, or habit to break, even when out of the cage.</p><p>So when the events in Kirkwall sparked a rebellion and war for survival among mages, and Jehrin realized he wanted to see if he could help kill off the old Circle like his partner was destroying the Crows, their paths split with really no fuss, no bother. Maybe their paths would cross again, but until then- well, Jehrin always found a way out if things went weird. He'd be <i>fine</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Familiar Fears

**Author's Note:**

> Jehr's magic stuff:  
> I'm handling Jehrin's magic as a combination of DAO/DA2/DAI trees and skills. Basically he's Electricity/Spirit with me considering Knight Enchanter as an offshoot of general "Force Mage" specialization.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jehrin Trevelyan wakes up to find himself in chains, and surrounded by angry Templars. That this isn't a first time occurrence makes it both easier, and harder to deal with.

_Whatever happened, I am fucked. I should've stayed out of this, Antiva's nice this time of year._

Panic warring with that spark of defiance, which made him less cooperative about trying to keep up with the jailers who were trying to drag him somewhere, being a little limp, making them actually drag, shove, push him along gave him time to _try_ and think. Maybe he could think of something worth the bruises and scrapes. _Am I being taken for punishment, interrogation, or both? Was the Conclave a trap for mages from the start after all?_

He couldn't _remember_ how he got to the little room where he'd woken up aching as if he'd been beaten, being watched by some of the angriest Templars he'd never thrown lightning at or stabbed. He remembered the tedious, tenuous beginnings of the Conclave, the layers of cynical anxiety over how they would go- and then the jumble of nightmare he'd woken from seemingly only minutes ago. _Something happened, and I'm being blamed. Of course. But_ what _? The least they could do is swear or threaten me over it while spitting and glaring._

One of his hands kept angrily twinging, aching- probably someone had at some point stomped on it, though it didn't feel like something was broken, he could flex all his fingers. Being dragged and shoved as he was, it was hardly time to try and look at how bad it was. Considering how many bruises he was getting right now, he'd have been more shocked if he didn't feel like he'd been hurt earlier. Had he managed to resist at all, when... whatever had happened, happened, or was it just a case of being beaten when down?

Jehrin tried to fight complete panic with rising anger- without _showing_ the anger. It had been a while since he'd been in, or even had to think about this sort of survival scenario, but his mind pulled up the checklist quickly, instinctively. The trick was to use his earliest lessons without forgetting his later ones- forgetting that he _had_ been free for years, and that he wasn't going back to any of what he'd been before.

_Never show Templars you're angry. Safer to let them see you're scared- if not in the short run, then in the long run when they're convinced you won't do anything. Unless it looks like they're getting off on it, go ahead and cringe, try crying- go numb if they look like they're enjoying it too much._

_Play along, be sorry for everything they want you to be sorry for, try and find the way you can get out later, be harmless- unless it's clearly leading to the Rite- then do anything,_ anything _possible to make them just fucking kill you._

 _Even if the other mages are alive- no use trying to get more than yourself out. You can't trust_ anyone _but yourself again._

_I can’t believe I was so stupid as to volunteer and walk into this._

_I'm not going back to being a whipped creature._

_Don't let the anger_ show _._ _Remember, you're a meek, quiet, pretty little harmless mage. Frightened into joining the free mages._

_How nice that being frightened isn't something I even need to fake._

_I am so thoroughly fucked._


	2. Tempers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jehrin finds himself accused, and then expected to apparently save the world. And if this wasn't hard enough to deal with, he discovers he was unofficially punished by one of those who thinks he killed the Divine and has lost more than his charm and luck for the moment- but also a certain luck charm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter CW: Referenced disfiguring attack/abuse and other further-in-the-past abuse.

It actually took a few moments for him to really process what the prowling, angry, hissing Seeker had been saying, and what he was accused of. That he was really _accused_ and the entire Conclave hadn't been a Chantry and Templar trap almost made him laugh with a kind of relief, but he caught himself- He'd been silent so far, and that had wound her up, laughing might actually lead to a sudden beheading.

_And shit, Divine Justinia was as good as we were likely to get for a friend on that throne. We're_ all _going to get wiped out over this, once and for all, if they're blaming the mages._

Briefly he thought about trying to take the sole blame, but only briefly. It wouldn't work, and he was _hardly_ a martyr.

“I- I was here for _peace talks_. I had nothing to do with.. whatever happened. I don't remember anything from.. the first meeting until I woke up in a cell. There is nothing for me to explain, nothing I _can_ explain.”

The Seeker grabbed a shackled hand, and he winced as it ached again- and then stared as she yanked it up into his sight. There was a green glow, even with the lyrium chains blocking his magic, it pulsed and streaked angrily over his brown skin, almost like cracks in his body but- not quite. Tracing veins at times- but not always.

“ _Shit,_ what the hell-”

“Are you telling me you had not even _noticed_ it, mage?”

“It just felt like a bad bruise- I didn't bother to _look,_ ” so much for just staying meek, although seeing it, not knowing what it was, that at least helped with the 'afraid'.

“You have _no_ memories of what occurred?” another woman stepped in, a hand on the Seeker's arm before the woman responded to that.

“I had.. nightmares I thought, before waking up. Running from something.. maybe with a woman? I don't know, I honestly don't remember.”

“Running _with_ a woman?”

“With? To? I don't know, it's hard to remember even that much.”

He managed to get a little more control with the hand out of sight again. The hooded redhead looked to the Seeker, and then murmured something to her that he didn't catch, before starting for a doorway. The Seeker's gaze then snapped back to him, but she seemed a little less ready to tear him apart.

“You are the _only_ survivor of all who were at the Temple when the explosion occurred. You fell from the fade, and some say they saw a woman behind you. We have been assured that the mark on your hand is needed, that you are needed, and are the only chance for closing the Breach, and the smaller rifts that have opened in the Veil,” the Seeker's tone made it clear that if not for that assurance, he'd be far worse off.

“The- I- _what_?” now it was impossible to ignore that damn hand's aching, “Look, I'll.. do whatever I can to help but please give me a better explanation like I _don't_ have any idea what's going on? Because I do _not_.”

His offering to help seemed to surprise the Seeker, like she'd still expected him to suddenly start gloating about some mage plan and refuse. But at least once over that, her mood seemed to soften even just slightly. She undid his chains, saying grimly, “I will _show_ you, and then the others can perhaps _explain_. But no tricks, mage.”

Jehrin took in a breath as the lyrium chains came off, and with them some of the cold fear that had been coiled around him. Feeling the magic again- even if it made the marked hand worse- that was a comfort. More than a comfort, now he wasn't helpless against _anything_. Hands free meant even non-magical abilities could be used as needed. Steal a purse from a guard by the door as dragged past, in case in the end he _did_ need to run. Tricky, since he was glared at, but then, it wasn't his hands being watched.

Once outside, however, it was obvious just how big the remaining problem he was 'needed' for was. Not something he could run from, if it was true he could somehow help. There'd be nowhere to run _to_ if it grew, and it was growing. Whatever it was in his hand- _Some sort of fade energy?_ \- felt briefly like it was trying to yank his magic out, and possibly his internal organs as well, when that hole in the sky flared wider- and then like it was trying to shove even more energy back into him.

“Andraste's _tits_ -”

Whether it was the language or something else that earned him a Look from the Seeker, she also at least grabbed him as he started to double over and collapse over the sudden painful sensations. “There are smaller rifts, constantly spitting out demons. That is the original Breach, created in the explosion, It grows, slowly, but constantly. That mark in your hand is tied to it somehow, and _it will kill you_.”

He shook his head, shaking his hand, a little theatrically, as if it even helped stop the tingling burn, because he also now felt a new spark of _irritation_. A huge, glowing hole in the sky, looking like that, _feeling_ like that, and she thought he'd only be interested if it was pointed out he'd die if he didn't help close it. Having the worst constantly assumed of him, no matter that he was in no way heroic or 'good' made him want to be, at the least, more outspoken than was probably good for a mage.

“I _said_ I would do what I could to help, whatever that is. Can we please get to whoever is going to explain what that is?”

And then they started encountering the actual demons. _Much as I'd like to just let her do all the major fighting and try to seem as harmless as possible- and as wrong as the power flow feels-_ He'd found himself having to dodge back from a claw swipe when one rushed past her and came to him, summoning his shielding so the next just bounced off- well, mostly did.

_Oh yes, I am definitely being drained- my spells haven't been this unstable since the time I let a certain_ someone _talk me into trying dwarven ale-_ his simplest attack spells would do little as he was- but there was a dead mage close by, so he dove for the staff, swinging it up and using what he did have in him to amplify whatever elemental power it had. The demon screeched and froze, literally. He twisted the staff in his grip and lunged, putting the blade on the end to good use, letting his magic charge through it and finish the weakened shade off..

And found himself at the point of the Seeker's sword again shortly after.

“Drop the weapon.”

_Never argue with an armed Templar or when you know you can't just run-_ he sighed, and let it fall from his hand.

“As you wish, Seeker.”

She stared at him, and then made a disgusted noise, lowering her sword- for a moment he nearly retorted, because after so many years he could only play it smart for so long, but then he realized she was irritated at herself.

“No- that is foolish. Pick it back up, we will have to fight many more to get to the others. I may again be unable to protect you alone.”

He shrugged, and picked it back up. She was still looking at him suspiciously- or perhaps suspicious was just her default look.

“I have not seen many mages who use their staff as a weapon in that manner.”

_Ah, yes. Of course that was noticed._ “My magic is not currently at its best, I think it is the mark- and the Breach. I need time to get used to whatever has happened. More flailing about like that is likely.”

“ _Flailing?”_ she snorted, this time the disgust was at him again, with suspicious disbelief. Of _course_ she would notice signs of long practice with melee situations. Well she was unlikely to relax about him anyway-

 “All right, not flailing, I'm quite good with my staff- known for it in some quarters,” he said it in his most innocent voice, wanting to only  _mildly_ needle her, and moved on to keep following the path. He felt much better being able to be active, even though he knew there would be no way to pretend to be harmless by the end of this, whether his magic truly worked properly at that point or not. Not if he had to fight very often.

He reached up without thinking to run his fingers over the earring he wore, _for luck_ , or really, for comfort- and froze a moment, when he realized there was no earring. Also, while it didn't hurt, the flesh itself was certainly not as it should have been- he stopped following the Seeker, and she looked back at him impatiently.

_Hadn't even noticed, with the hand and the rest- Andraste's bloody ass-_ “My earring got ripped out.”

He wasn't exactly shocked, fingers still feeling what must have been healed by potion or spell, otherwise he would have had a bandage over it.  But the Seeker only heard him whining about a mere possession when demons were still on the path ahead.

“You notice such such things missing at a time like this?” she gestured in the direction they were meant to be walking.

“It's not just _missing-_ my ear is a mess,” now he didn't feel better at all. “I liked that earring, some of us form attachments to gifts from friends. Some of us even _have_ friends. And for that matter, I liked my _ear._ Don't tell me this is some accidental injury- according to your story I never fought anyone. Some _asshole_ decided that the guilty mage didn't deserve something pretty and ripped it out while I was your helpless prisoner. Should I be just grateful it got healed with whatever other damage I might have been given by the recovery mob? That I'm only missing _part_ of an ear? What else was done while I was unconscious this time?”

Her expression went from impatient, to angry, to... almost something like ashamed as he snarled at her and she actually _looked_ at his ear, his long hair pushed behind it. Apparently even if she still didn't like him, she also didn't like finding she had allowed- or overlooked- things like theft and mutilation. _Probably the theft part, Templars aren't supposed to be common_ thieves _._

“I... apologize, I did not realize that had happened. When the Breach is stopped, we will try and discover who did it, and return your property to you.”

“Oh _good_. Meanwhile, now I really do want to spend a little more time frying demons.”


	3. Selflessness and Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jehrin is tired of the Chantry's pride, and fighting a different Pride makes him let his temper slip a little more.

Further down the trail, heading up the mountain, and he was getting to fight just about all the demons he possibly could want to.

Since the elf named Solas was quite willing and adept at casting shields, he concentrated on getting a better grip on his offensive, ranged spells. It was getting easier, his lightning, his control, getting back to what it SHOULD be- feeling rather like finally stretching muscles that had gotten a little atrophied, figuring out how much was now too much, or too little to do as needed. He worried as to how off his other combat magics would be, but he always felt the Seeker watching him in between fights, so lightning was all he used for now.

Just in case things worked, and he had to try and get away afterward.

The rift-closing method was... frustratingly mysterious. He wasn't sure how Solas had triggered the the mark- he knew how _he_ did it, once the elf had grabbed him it had been quite obvious as to what he had to do-and something about that annoyed him, like there should be something wrong about it, but he wasn't sure what. It was almost as bad as the sudden gap in his mind over what had happened to him _before_ he was found.

Jehrin _had_ been trying to not think about his missing memories much, but now it was impossible to not worry about what exactly had happened. Between that great blankness, the mark on his hand, his torn ear, and knowing that he had the _blame_ still, continuously, pinned on him just because people needed an obvious villain and cause- he felt increasingly violated. Which meant far less patient, and more to the point, increasingly angry under everything else.

And since he was cautious with his magic and fighting abilities- or trying to be so- the anger leaked out a bit more when they were confronted by Chancellor Roderick at the base camp. The man not so much disbelieving as simply _ignoring_ anything said by 'troublemakers' as inconsequential. He just couldn't keep his mouth shut, he wanted to annoy the man as much as Roderick annoyed _him_.

“Yes, I'm certain the demons that keep coming out in the meantime will be thrilled to be among the faithful throng, greeting the new Divine,” Jehrin drawled, fingers again running over his damaged earlobe, “Do they get to join in the vote if they get to Val Royeaux in a hurry? Will you use some of them as character witnesses for the prosecution when I'm finally on trial? Since you seem so certain I'll even live so long as to get one. Why not at least let me close more of the small rifts, as it _has_ been proven I can do that, during the age it will take for anything to be decided on by your Chantry?”

“You _created_ those-”

He rolled his eyes, but the Seeker- possibly wisely- got between him and the idiot, and did the interrupting herself. Jehrin gritted his teeth as he felt another pulse run through him, and flexed his fingers- snorting as some of the witnesses backed away or put hands on weapons if they were soldiers.

He blinked, realizing that he was being addressed by the Seeker and the other woman- Leliana- about how they should get to the breach, either with soldiers, or using them as a distraction. Without thinking, he answered with a question of his own-

“Any idea how many of the rifts the soldiers' route will make them fight past?” _I'd prefer the faster, quiet route. But wave after wave of demons- no group will be able to safely move past any rift not closed. I wouldn't even wish that on Templars, or a Grand Cleric. And from the sound and looks of things, it won't just be Templars, but common sods with no training at all against demons._

“Perhaps three or four so far- new ones do develop, however,” Leliana had exchanged another look with the Seeker over that question, but did at least have an answer of sorts.

“Then I'd best close those on the way,” he sighed, “So let's go be bloody obvious and get rid of as many of the problems as I can, before the bureaucrats and idiots drag me off to be made a pointless example of.”

The dwarf shook his head slightly, and more than a little of Jehrin really did agree with his slight disapproval of that plan as he realized what he'd just said.

_...That sort thinking is exactly how I walked right into this mess, rather than been sensible, and stayed far away from all politics and with- well, he'd certainly be amused now, wouldn't he. Although just as well Birdbrain_ is _more sensible about self-preservation and self-interest than I am... If he'd been here-_

_Blight it all, I don't have time or need for this sort of thinking._

The Seeker seemed surprised again, and actually looked approving. Which felt as uncomfortable and unnatural as anything else about the situation, really.

“Look, just.. lead on. Let's get this over with and see if it works.”

**-0-**

Of _course_ the rift at the top, where the temple once stood, had spat out a Pride demon when he'd done as Solas suggested- leaving his lightning almost useless. He spent some time weakening the rift's power, helping Solas keep shielding up, and channeled attacks through the frost staff- until smaller demons did rush out, that were more easily destroyed by the crackling lightning he could call down- as well as actual physical blows from his staff if they got close enough. He still didn't quite feel like _himself_ , magic-wise, how much because he was making himself hold back, rather than that mark or rift anymore, he wasn't sure.

_How much does anyone know about me?_ _If I survive this, if it works, then I may still find myself in a position where getting away is the best option- if Templars and Chantry idiots still think I caused this, I don't want anyone knowing I do more than shields and sparks until the last bloody minute, if at all._

Then the Pride demon had suddenly lost interest in simply attacking the Seeker, perhaps because he had just weakened it again, and bore down on him- and he didn't even think about it, just braced himself and lashed out with his blade- getting spattered with ichor as the force of his inner temper actually made the huge monster rear and slide back slightly. He smiled, he couldn't help it, and he lunged in and slashed again, then brought the staff up to block its final attempt to claw at him, although not perfectly, he felt the bite of talons into his arm as his shields also wore down too quickly, and he did have to move back, and fast, before another swipe hit him.

It still was the Seeker that finished the demon off, and as soon as it was down, and he felt the now somewhat familiar tug of the mark on his hand, he went ahead and closed the rift- and this one took longer, and shut with a stronger pull _back_ at him- and that was the last thing he remembered until he woke up _again_.

Maybe not his first vague thought, but certainly up near the top of the list when he did wake up, (at least this time in a decent bed without chains on), was that he really hoped this wasn't going to become a new habit.


	4. Herald Trevelyan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a hero might be slightly better than being a villain- for however long it lasts.

Amazingly, some of his belongings were in the room he woke up in, though the clothes he'd been found in were more than a little worse for wear, and while the staff he'd picked up and used to help fight the demons was there- no sign of his blade. Since it was quite literally the only mage-oriented blade he'd ever seen, he spent a little time swearing over that after the serving girl had left.

There was actually a small mirror in the place. He shoved his hair back and stared at his mauled ear- the damage could have been worse, but whoever had done it had _twisted_. And he didn't really expect anyone to be found, for that matter, for anyone to look very hard. Other things would certainly be far more important.

His arm was wrapped with bandages, though from the feel of it, there'd been actual healing done to him again by spell or potion. But at least any scars left from the raking claws were the results of an honest fight.

_At least from what the serving girl said it's unlikely anyone else is going to be trying to do more damage to me at the moment. But still, pox on whoever did take that, even if I know it's pointless to be so sentimental over things. More people may currently be happy with me than against me around Haven right now, but undoubtedly that will change whenever they next need a target._

Being bowed, saluted, and stared at was not really the sort of reaction he was used to- or, frankly, ever wanted. But not really knowing how exactly to react to this sudden belief he was holy as opposed to unholy, he just tried to ignore it for now, finding his way up to the ancient Chantry building itself.

He almost turned right around when the first thing seen and heard opening the doors he'd been directed to was that Chancellor, but sighed, and continued forward, only to be spotted and have the man furiously order the lurking Templars to seize him.

_I am not cooperating with that. Just. Not._

He froze where he was, keeping his expression as polite and quiet as he could, already starting the concentration in case he had to fight. Fortunately, they didn't jump to comply, with that order instead, the Templars looked first to the resident Knight-Commander, whose name Jehr didn't really remember from hurried introductions within combat.

When he told them to leave, they did so, leaving the Chancellor looking... rather fishlike. The mage slowly relaxed, and held his tongue, letting the others drive the man out, although he didn't feel relaxed for long.

“So, you really are declaring your Inquisition?”

“ _Our_ Inquisition if you will help us, Herald,” the Seeker actually sounded like someone asking, rather than demanding, and he did appreciate how her eyes flickered to his ear and she flushed somewhat, “We truly know now, believe now, that you had nothing to do with the Divine's death, you are still the only one with the ability to close rifts, and we _must_ close the Breach, and restore order, the Chantry is not able or even willing to.”

He held up the hand, looking at it, watching a brief flicker of green light, “Well, I can hardly say 'no' to that sort of invitation, now can I? Showing up the Chantry, absolute dream come true,” he said it lightly, then shook his head more seriously, “I'm as interested as anyone else in there not being demons everywhere, and if what you were pointing out to Roderick is right- look. I am _not_ some sort of holy person. At all. But I'll help close that Breach, willingly, and will see where things go.”

“Thank you, Herald, that is all we can ask of you- _will_ ask of you,” the Knight-Commander offered his hand, all of them did, and once again, the mage felt rather like he was _clearly_ walking right into trouble, as well as slightly strange, especially where the Seeker and either a Templar or former one were concerned as anything remotely like allies.

Now if there was just some title he could get them to use instead of that ridiculous one when they felt formality was called for. But then, did they even really _know_ his name? He'd been basically 'hey you' as near as he could remember-

“We have received a request for aid, and an invitation to meet with, a respected Mother who is tending to refugees of Templar and Apostate violence in the Hinterlands. Meeting with Mother Giselle to see what she wishes to discuss, and joining to aid those refugees may be a good place for us to start. Also, we will need mounts beyond what we currently have, and the horse master for the old Arl of Redcliffe may be able and willing to help us, if we can get word to him. Herald Trevelyan, would you be willing to meet with the Revered Mother?”

“If it seems the better place to star- ah, _Trevelyan_?” he was thrown enough to react, “If.. I might ask, how did you dredge up my name?” _How much do they know?_

“You were recognized by a young Chantry Sister shortly after you were found, though she left Haven before you woke. An actual sister of yours, she claimed, Estelle Trevelyan? I know it was not the name you had arrived to the Conclave under, but word spread quickly, despite our effort to keep it more quiet.”

“I see. I'm sure she had absolutely glowing things to say about me. And probably will write home even if you thought to tell her not to for some reason.”

“She was not entirely certain you were responsible, actually,” this was Leliana, speaking quietly, “But she did say that since the family had been sent word that you had escaped a Circle, you were not highly regarded.”

“I was disowned, actually, among other things.” _And how much do they know, or what questions are they asking about my escape- or what led up to it?_ He'd have to worry about that sort of thing later, “I haven't seen anyone from the family however since I was 12, so I'm rather amazed she recognized me even.”

“If you would prefer, Herald, that we use your assumed name, Ekaitz, it can be done, but I believe it may not be able to outpace Trevelyan as rumor spreads it.”

“No, I may as well be Trevelyan everywhere. To be honest, I still recognize and react to the name faster than Ekaitz,” absently, he rubbed at his ear again, then dropped his hand. _The other worrying question then being who, if anyone else, is still after me. The contract on my head with the Crows was dropped, but- are they going to actually forgive their losses? Hardly a thing to bring up here, with everyone, though. Currently, whatever they know of me, or suspect of me, they're willing to call me this Herald, and it'd be a shame to have them bring back suspicious looks or chains again, when we're getting along so well._

He did notice Leliana was, however giving him a new kind of look, one he recognized as thoughtful curiosity more than straight suspicion. But then, she'd been more 'friendly' to him right from the beginning, or at least more practical about using him. Of course the chances she was the same religious redhead named Leliana that Zev had known were... all things considered, likely.

Not that that meant much, in terms of trusting her.

“So, I head out after a scouting party as the Inquisition representative to see this Revered Mother, and see if she can help us in some way, help refugees, basically try to reassure everyone that we don't have sharp teeth, claws, blood magic, and a tendency to spread Blight?”

“That covers at least the basic mission outline, yes.”

“Lovely, is there a place to get a drink in this village? Or something for a headache?”


End file.
